Fathom Five: The Unwritten Books Read online

  The stage was five feet high and ten feet across. A set of stairs led up to it, guarded by two male sirens. They crossed their tridents as the procession approached. The musicians leading the procession turned away and joined the crowd. The Welcome Circle parted and slipped around the stage like the tide around an island.

  Peter and the siren girl walked up to the guards, and the tridents parted. The two mounted the steps alone.

  The Welcome Circle twirled one last time and stopped with the music. They stood with arms upstretched, facing the stage.

  The people who had lined the parade route filed into the square, filling the remaining spaces. Rosemary saw Merius standing near the entrance, trident in hand, casting a wary eye over his shoulder and then across the crowd.

  For several minutes, everyone in the square stood still. The siren girl stood ramrod straight. Peter stared glassily ahead. As she stood in silence with arms over her head, Rosemary knew she’d be getting a cramp soon. It had to be dancing, she thought. For once, why can’t I disrupt a ceremony with algebra?

  Finally, Fionarra handed her trident to an attendant and mounted the steps to the raised dais at the head of the square. She faced Peter over the crowd.

  Her soft voice carried easily across the silent multitude. “Council, villagers: we welcome to our family one Peter McAllister. Lost for years, we have now found him. Away from us, he has come home. By these words and by our blood, we make Peter one of us, and ...,” she looked at Peter and allowed herself a small smile, “... welcome him into our hearts.”

  She glanced down. “Give Ariel the chalice.”

  The siren girl turned and accepted a pitcher and a chalice from someone in the crowd. The pitcher was cut crystal, and the golden chalice looked as if it belonged in a church — and, thought Rosemary, it probably did. Ariel set these between herself and Peter and poured out water from the pitcher.

  Rosemary shifted on her feet. Time was running out, but the guards still stood at the steps. The stage in front of her would not be an easy climb, but it looked as though she was going to have to chance it.

  Ariel reached to the crowd. Someone handed her a trident and she turned back to Peter, holding the weapon between them, points in the air. He hesitated, but grabbed hold of the staff. Ariel smiled and nodded. Then she stepped back and flexed her arm. She took a deep breath, and then swung down her hand, slamming her palm on the centre point of the trident.

  Rosemary flinched. The long sleeves of her robes slipped and bunched up at her shoulders.

  The crowd stayed silent as Ariel pulled her hand back and held it, palm open, over the chalice. Blood welled from the cut and dripped into the water until the water was tinged red.

  Finally, Ariel wrapped a piece of her robe around her palm and took up the chalice. She came close to Peter and held the cup between them.

  Fionarra drew herself up. “Peter Calvin McAllister, do you come here of your own free will?”

  Peter bowed his head. He barely blinked. “I do.”

  “Do you wish to join our family?”

  “No,” breathed Rosemary.

  Again, Peter nodded. “I do.”

  Fionarra’s smile widened. “Do you consent to become like us?”

  “Say no,” Rosemary whispered.

  “I do.”

  Rosemary clenched her teeth.

  “Peter Calvin McAllister.” Fionarra’s voice echoed across the square. “We welcome you. Before you drink of the chalice, answer this: do you know of any ties that bind you to another world and keep you from joining our family?”

  Rosemary fixed her eyes on Peter. “Say yes,” she whispered. “Please, say yes.”

  Peter opened his mouth, but no words came out. He closed it again, blinking. The silence stretched. Whispers rustled through the crowd.

  Fionarra cleared her throat. “Peter?” Her eyes bore into him across the square.

  Peter opened his mouth again. Then he looked around at the crowd. His gaze fell on Rosemary.

  As Rosemary stood in the Welcome Circle — her arms stretched over her head — she realized that with her sleeves bunched around her shoulders, her arms were bare. The bloody bandage over the bite on her forearm was plain for all to see, and Peter was looking directly at it. Then his gaze flickered from her bandage to her eyes. The glassiness vanished from his eyes. Recognition lit his face.

  Fionarra followed Peter’s gaze to Rosemary, and she let out a howl of anger that made the air quake. She leapt forward, pointing.

  “Stop her! It’s the songbreaker!”

  The crowd screamed, roared and ran in several directions at once.

  Rosemary dropped her arms and charged the stage.

  The guards at the steps brought their tridents to bear. Without thinking, Rosemary grabbed the shaft of one to pull it aside, but the moment she touched the metal, the guard disappeared. The trident clattered to the ground.

  More screams echoed through the square.

  Rosemary bit her lip as she stared at the ground where the guard had been, but she picked up the trident and, in a flash of inspiration, held up her right hand at the remaining guard, palm open, revealing the birthmark. “Stand aside, unless you want to be broken too!”

  Please, she added to herself.

  The guard dropped to his knees and cowered.

  Rosemary clambered up the steps.

  To her left and her right, she saw five guards rushing through the crowd, pushing past people with unnatural ease, tridents ready, their faces grim. Behind her, she could hear Merius yelling furiously. Fionarra was running at the stage, unarmed, her rage darkening the air. These, Rosemary sensed, wouldn’t be scared off by strong words and a birthmark.

  A trident’s staff smashed into her shins. She fell; her own weapon went sliding. Panicked, she scrambled to her feet. Peter and Ariel stood in front of her, staring. Rosemary knocked the chalice out of the girl’s hands, shouldered her aside, and grabbed Peter by the back of the neck.

  He blinked at her. “Rosemary?”

  Glamour. What had Merius told her? “You can break glamour for a few seconds, through some shock like cold water, a kiss, or a firebrand.” She didn’t have the water, and she didn’t want to burn him.

  But this all started with a … “Peter!” she shouted, and kissed him.

  For a moment, the noise of the crowd faded as his lips softened under hers. Then the cries came back into focus. Rosemary could hear Fionarra yelling, “Seize her!” like some made-up villain.

  Rosemary released the kiss, leaving Peter gasping for air. She looked him in the eye. Peter looked back.

  “Peter?”

  “Rosemary? What are you ...?” His face fell open as he looked around. “What the … where am I?”

  “You’re awake, that’s all that matters,” said Rosemary. She could hear footfalls rushing the stage. “We’ve got to run.”

  She pulled at him, but he didn’t move. His face was closing. He wasn’t even looking at her anymore.

  “Unless blocked by an exceptionally strong mind, glamour simply reasserts itself.” Great, she told herself, way to remember only half your instructions. Peter had been here too long. They could have done anything to weaken his defences. She could feel the glamour building up on him like ice. She shook his shoulders. “Peter! No, wake up!”

  “Rosemary,” he breathed. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Peter!” she shouted. She snapped her fingers in front of his face, slapped him. “No, no, no! Peter, you’ve got to wake up! Wake up!”

  She lunged to kiss him again, but Merius grabbed her from behind and threw her off the stage. She landed heavily in the arms of two other sirens, who shoved her to the ground and held her there.

  Rosemary looked up. Peter stared glassily ahead. The little siren girl was sitting on the stage, bewildered. Fionarra was frantically gathering up the pitcher and chalice. Rosemary struggled to sit up, but the sirens — it was the two from the beach, Loria and Darius — pushed her down.

&
nbsp; “You have failed,” said Eleanna, looming over her like a standing stone. “You will leave now, Rosemary Watson, or be killed.”

  “No!” Rosemary shouted. “You didn’t give him a chance! I’m not leaving him here!”

  “Then you choose death,” said Eleanna.

  Rosemary struggled, shouting every obscenity she knew. She broke free and clawed her way along the ground towards the stage. She looked up and saw Peter staring back, stiff as a mannequin. “Peter!” she screamed. “Wake up!”

  Then the sirens grabbed her, rolled her on her back, pinned her against the stage. Merius strode forward, his trident raised to strike.

  And then Rosemary just screamed.

  Then she heard a voice scream, “Stop!”

  Peter stumbled into her view, a trident in his hands. He stood over her, waving the weapon wildly. “Stop it! Stop it!”

  Silence fell. Everyone stood tense. The only sound through the crowd of sirens was Rosemary and Peter’s ragged breathing.

  “Peter,” Eleanna intoned. “This is our business. Don’t interfere.”

  “No,” said Peter, shaking his head as he fought to clear it. “No, this is wrong. You keep trying to hurt Rosemary! My family would never do that!”

  Fionarra raised her hands. “Peter, please —”

  He brought up a hand to shield his eyes. “Just stop! You did something to me! I can’t think straight whenever I look at you. None of this feels right!” The air shimmered to his words.

  Fionarra swallowed. “P-peter —”

  “Shut up, Fiona, wait! You said … you said you had to search for me when you heard my parents died,” said Peter. “But … you were there! You were at the hospital, but you wouldn’t speak to me. Either you could have rescued me then and didn’t, or that wasn’t you!”

  “Peter, please,” said Eleanna. “Let us explain.”

  “No!” Peter yelled, swinging the trident around as Merius got too close. “You lied to bring me here! I don’t belong here! Stop telling me lies!”

  His voice echoed. The air shimmered like a tuning fork. People vanished or merged together. Walls and ceilings turned to dust and the wind whistled through the desolation. Where one hundred and fifty-seven sirens once stood, only thirteen remained.

  Peter stared, the trident loose in his hands. The remaining sirens stood about, arms at their sides, looking embarrassed, as though they suddenly found themselves naked.

  “You don’t even look like me,” Peter breathed.

  Then Fionarra swooped past, knocking Peter off his feet. His trident went flying. She pinned him down and snarled, her triangular teeth inches from his face. Peter’s eyes were wide.

  “Peter!” Rosemary reached for him, struggled to get up, but Merius shoved her back.

  “You have reduced us to the real, songbreaker,” he said. “You have nothing left to threaten us with.”

  Rosemary could only watch as Fionarra raised a clawed hand to strike.

  “That’s enough!” Ariel grabbed Fionarra’s arm. The little girl pulled back, hard, and Rosemary heard a crack. Fionarra’s arm bent in a direction it wasn’t supposed to go and she rocked back, gasping.

  But more than the arm had broken. The air around Fionarra’s arm had cracked too, and the cracks were spreading, onto the stage, through the ground beneath Rosemary, throughout the square, into other sirens. They webbed the sky like glass. Sirens shouted, turned to run, but were caught.

  The world shattered and came raining down. The stage disappeared, sending Rosemary sprawling. Particles pattered around her, vanishing in puffs of smoke. The ruined walls crumbled, as did the trees and the ground, until nothing was left. Rosemary found herself on her back, looking up into fog.

  She sat up. Peter, sprawled beside her, lifted his head. They were back in their old clothes, on a stony beach beside a big rock. The cliff rose behind them and the water lapped at their feet. Waves rumbled in the distance and the wind whistled, but beyond a ten-foot radius, fog shrouded everything like the end of the world.

  Their eyes fell on the only siren left standing.

  Ariel buried her face in her hands.

  Rosemary shook her head. “Was any of it real?”

  Ariel looked up, then turned away. “Memories are real. This place echoes its memories: the shipwrecks, the nightmares of drowned children, the survivors. I remembered the people of my village. In the end, it was all I had left.”

  Peter and Rosemary helped each other to their feet. The waves crashed. The silence stretched.

  “So ...,” said Peter slowly. “When Fiona came to me, told me about this place … that was you?”

  “A part of me,” Ariel whispered. “I made Fionarra for your benefit, Peter, so I could tempt you here and give you other reasons to stay.”

  “How?” Peter stammered. “How did you know —”

  “I looked into your mind,” said Ariel. “I saw the moment that made you so like me. I took the one element from that memory that I could use to talk to you.”

  “Fiona,” breathed Peter. “Because she was the only one alive.”

  Rosemary bit her lip.

  “I altered my world to make Fionarra fit,” said Ariel. “It wasn’t always comfortable. She came into conflict with my memory of Merius, but it worked. Fionarra was for your benefit, but the rest … the rest was for me. Even Eleanna, who taught me how to use glamour. All were as I remembered them.”

  Peter goggled. “Why did you do this?”

  “Because I’m alone.” Ariel cleared her nose with a sniff. “I had parents long ago, and friends, before the sirens took me in. With their help, I learnt to make my own family, who took care of me, loved me, argued with me, and have been everything to me. Through it all I knew that I’d lost so much that was real. I had to find someone to share my loneliness with. Someone who understood.”

  Rosemary opened her mouth, but Ariel spoke first. “Yes, I was human, once. My parents drowned. I had a life jacket. And that was how the sirens found me and brought me here, a Lost Child.”

  “What happened to everyone?” asked Rosemary.

  “They grew old and died, grew sick and died, or just disappeared,” said Ariel. “After me, the Lost Ones stopped coming. The villagers didn’t see their doom until it was too late. They had been building sandcastles for so long, they did not notice the tide had come in.”

  Rosemary stepped to Ariel’s side, turned her around, and crouched low. “I-I’m … so sorry.”

  Ariel drew herself up. “No. I am sorry. I took something that did not belong to me. Promise me you’ll never forget how lucky you are that you have each other.”

  Rosemary gave her a small smile. “I promise. What will you do now?”

  “Rebuild my world. Perhaps someone else will come along and I can share it.”

  “No, wait a minute, wait a minute!” Peter strode forward. “I know I don’t belong here, but what about you? You’re human!”

  Ariel shook her head. “Only in memory.”

  “That’s not true!” He grabbed her wrist. “Come with us! We can look for your relatives. We can put you among your own people. You can find friends, rebuild your life, we —”

  “Peter, you don’t understand.” She shook herself free and displayed her arm, showing sea-glass skin and a fin growing on the back of it. “I’ve been through the Homecoming Ceremony. I’m not human anymore … and I’m older than you think. This world may be dead, but my world died a long time ago.”

  Peter shook his head. “No. There has to be a way —”

  “There is no way!” Ariel yelled. She continued more softly. “Your world is your true home, and this world is mine. Goodbye.” She hugged Peter, hard, and then stepped back. The wind picked up, plucking at her hair and tattered robes. She faded into streamers of mist, until empty air remained.

  Peter turned away.

  Rosemary stumbled forward. “Wait! What about us? How do we get out of here?”

  Ariel’s voice echoed over the waves. “Y
ou have broken most of this world’s glamour, songbreaker, but one piece remains. It holds you here now. Break it, and you can return home, and we can start to rebuild. You already know how.”

  Then the only sound was the wind and the waves.

  Rosemary turned to Peter. He stood looking at the spot where Ariel had stood, as though at a gravestone. The wind blew the minutes away. Finally, she touched his shoulder.

  He turned to her. His cheeks were wet.

  She opened her mouth to say something, then hesitated. Reaching up, she wiped his tears away. Then she clasped his shoulder.

  “It ends with a kiss,” she said.

  He frowned a moment before he understood. He cleared his nose with a sniff, then he straightened up. He put a hand on her side, and smiled nervously. They edged closer. They wrapped their arms around each other. Rosemary looked into Peter’s eyes and leaned into him. After a brief hesitation, they pressed their lips together.

  The world shuddered around them and water splashed over them. They were submerged. They slipped apart in shock.

  Lungs burning, Rosemary struck out, kicking for where instinct told her the surface was. She rose through foot after foot of murky water, fighting to hold her breath as the light brightened.

  She burst into the air with a hacking gasp.

  “Peter!” she screamed. “Pete—”

  She struggled to look for the shore, but she was almost blind. A wave rolled over her. She flailed like a drowning man.

  Peter grabbed her from behind and held her head above water. “I’ve got you!”

  The foghorn of Cape Croker’s lighthouse moaned. The fog rolled back. Sunlight touched the water’s surface. The shoreline pulled closer. Two figures ran up the beach towards them.

  Then they felt stones beneath their feet and Peter and Rosemary stood up, dripping. The wind broke against their backs. Benson ran into the water while Veronica stood, hands over her mouth, white as a sheet.